


A Good Dose of Country

by flinchflower



Series: Slash Me Twice [20]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Discipline, Lecture, M/M, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-01
Updated: 2011-11-01
Packaged: 2017-10-25 14:24:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/271268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flinchflower/pseuds/flinchflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt 20: Country.  John copes with his boys abundant energy...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Good Dose of Country

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Not for profit, simply a writing exercise. Herein lies Dean/Sam slash, in an AU timeline where John did not lose his life. John appears in parental context only. Follows in series from previous prompts, but stands alone if preferred.

They boys are wrestling in the yard under John’s keen supervision, working off some steam, doing a little training. Jim’s gone back to Blue Earth, and Dean knew he needed to do something to take Sam’s mind off of it. Except maybe snapping the dishtowel across Sam’s behind wasn’t such a good idea, because Sam was irritated enough to drop the frying pan back in the sink and lunge for Dean, and John was just in the next room.

John didn’t bother grabbing for either of his boys, just stood in the doorway, cleared his throat. He tried to tell himself that he didn’t appreciate the sheepish looks, but he never was a very good liar.

“Need to go outside, work that off, do we? No, don’t bother with your jackets. You won’t need them.” Oh hell, it wasn’t worth denying it. He enjoyed the little shuffle to Sam’s step. Dean must’ve started it. He put his own jacket on, grabbed a mug of coffee, and sat comfortably on the porch. Dean was poking at Sam, the brothers were speaking too quietly for John to hear, but he’d heard enough over the years to know it wouldn’t be long now.

“Damnit, Sam, you got us into trouble!”

“ME! You’re the one who-“ he shook his head. No way. He simply lunged for his brother, taking the smaller man down almost immediately. He pinned Dean quickly, and sat on him. “Say you’re sorry,” he hollered. Something about it felt good, at any rate, and there hadn’t been any annoying suggestions from John yet, so…

Dean bucked and a quick twist reversed their positions. Sam swore with feeling and Dean leaned in close. “Now, now, Sammy. Watch your mouth there, buddy.”

“What? Fuck that, Dean-“

It turned into a free for all scuffle at that point, dirty moves and all. Bobby sat down next to John on the porch, poured a splash evening whiskey into John’s coffee and his own. He chuckled after a few minutes.

“Pair of mouths on those boys, Johnny,” Bobby said as the phrase cocksucking pansy ass bitch floated up to meet them and he saw his friend frowning.

“They didn’t get it from me,” John muttered.

“Denial ain’t just a river in Egypt,” Bobby replied with good humor, watching Sam sock Dean in the thigh pretty damn hard.

“Hey there,” barked John. “Keep it clean.” He was referring more to the fighting than the language, he supposed, because Dean was starting to look pretty mad. He was gonna have to step in if it went on much longer, both boys were panting and tiring, but the argument still raging. Who got who in trouble. Jesus. If he’d had any inkling that he’d still be hearing that one twenty years later he’d have been stricter with it in the first place, he thought. And then Sam turned to him, leaning into the chokehold he had his brother in.

“He started it, Dad. Are we done yet?”

Yeah. “Get up here, both of you.” They both dragged their feet the same they had at eighteen and fourteen, not to mention eight and four, and John resisted putting his face in his hands. “Sam, run. Dean, woodshed.”

Dean turned and immediately marched off, looking offended, and Sam glared at their father. “It’ll be dark soon.”

“Better make it quick then, boy, and be back before it is.” Sam huffed out a sigh and halfheartedly jogged to the shortest of the trails through Bobby’s property. John was already mulling over the wisdom in not interrupting downtime with a hunt – this was the second time he’d had to go through this, this year, as the boys got to the stage where they were rested enough to have their normal energy back, but hadn’t trusted the downtime enough to really relax again. He swallowed the last of his coffee and turned to Bobby.

“Think they’ll grow out of it?”

Bobby just snorted. “Maybe. Not as bad as it was when they were kids.” John nodded. He was right. Back then, the fighting could go on for days, especially as Dean got bored with watching Sam get lost in Bobby’s or Jim’s books. “Get started on that restoration tomorrow, maybe, the one I mentioned to you. Keep Dean out of trouble at least.”

“And Sam?”

Bobby just gave him a look. “That boy ain’t half the trouble Dean is, left to his own devices. No. He’s still hurting, John, you maybe best leave him be, or leave him to Dean.” John nods, and rises. Bobby’s pretty satisfied that John heard him. Downtime’s always HIS opportunity to talk John back to sanity, back to sense. Not always an easy task, either, but this year it’s easier, with Sam getting along with him better.

Sam jogs quickly along the short trail, feeling himself relax as he grudgingly admits that his father was right to send him on a run, even though he hates running. He emerged from the woods in a better mood, and headed for the woodshed to give his brother a hand.

Dean scowled, seeing him. “The fuck do you want?”

“Give you a hand,” he said easily, and Dean backed down.

“You run that?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.” Dean relaxes. “I’m just about done here anyways,” he says, turning to stack the last of the wood he split. They head to the house together, and shoulder through the doorway. John looks up, satisfied. There’s teasing over supper, and Bobby lets out a cuss, seeing that he’s forgotten yet again to keep the fire going – it’s been a warm fall, and his habit isn’t back yet.

“Boys. Bring in some kindling for me? I’m out.”

They amble out, and Sam goes to set the flashlight on the workbench in the woodshed.

“Sam. It’ll roll, just hang onto it, I’ll get the kindling.”

Sam rolls his eyes, and sets the flashlight down anyways, and helps Dean shovel kindling into a crate. Dean snorts, and sure enough, as they finish and are leaving, Sam bumps the table, and the flashlight rolls off the back of the bench and goes out.

“Shit!”

“God. Grab the other crate, we’ll take this in to Bobby, get another light, and come back and get it.”

Sam just sighs, and Bobby’s amused, looking at the two of them as they come back in. “Another flashlight back there, Sam? You boys need to go get that one and the one you dropped the other night out of there, all right? I don’t have that many in the house.” Dean’s nodding, taking the one off the mantel, and hauling Sam by his jacket out. The men can hear the bickering as they go, and this time John does put his head in his hands.

“Dammit, I thought we took care of that earlier.”

Bobby laughs. “I keep telling you, trust Dean, all right? I think you missed the look on his face there.” He laughs harder at the look on John’s face. “Just wait, John.” They go back to their conversation.

Outside, Dean’s losing patience. “God, Sam, enough with the attitude.”

“For fuck’s sake, it’s just a flashlight, Dean!”

“And either of us really want to be crawling around in the shed in the middle of the night?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“You know what you need, Sam?” Sam rolls his eyes, and Dean smiles slow and dangerous. He waits while Sam fishes out the flashlights from under the bench, carefully swiping under it with a long branch, disturbing a couple of mice in the process. Sam thrusts the lights at Dean, and he pockets them. Then he sets his own light upright between two logs, and grabs his brother, who yelps in surprise. Dean’s quick to pin Sam over the top of the workbench, glad the surface is clean.

“Let me up!”

“Nope. Not until I give you what you need.”

“What the fuck is it you think I-“ And he’s cut off by the stinging sensation of Dean’s hand coming down on his behind hard a couple of times. He fights for breath, and when he finally can think beyond the pain, he hollers. “Cut it out, Dean!”

“Jeans can come down, Sam.” And indeed they do, because the comment just makes Sam struggle harder. He finds himself over Dean’s lap, Dean seated on the old stool kept in the corner. Sam endures the spanking for a few minutes longer, and then goes limp, acknowledging that yeah, he’s been bratty about the whole thing. “You behaving now?”

“Yeah,” mutters Sam. “Sorry.” Dean’s beaming at him as he helps the boy upright.

“See what a difference a good country spanking brings, boy?” He’s imitating Bobby’s drawl perfectly, and Sam can’t help but laugh. His ass doesn’t hurt too much, Dean wasn’t all that hard on him. “Besides. Might make you friskier later.”

Sam blushes. “Dude. Dad and Bobby.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Both of us know how to be quiet.”

“True.” All the same, between the fact that his bottom stings, and he’s trying not to think about Dean’s ‘later’ he’s blushing when they go back in, offers to refill his father’s glass and Bobby’s as well. Dean’s got his back to both men, tending to the fire in the fireplace when Bobby nods at John with a grin, and John chuckles and nods back. Sam’s tentativeness when he comes in and sits makes John laugh even harder, and the boy looks at his father, puzzled.

“I miss something?”

“No, son. Bobby won a bet, is all. You know that doesn’t happen very often.”

Sam’s face relaxes, and Dean leans into the boy, knowing his additional weight will make Sam squirmy, and with any luck a little tussle might get John to suggest they go up to bed if they’re so tired they’re fighting again.

**Author's Note:**

> Music: Barenaked Ladies - Told You So


End file.
